A Death in the Family
by Godspeed Revolution
Summary: Silus brings news to his brother of their mother's death. Pre-movie. Complete.
1. Puerperal Fever

A/N: This appears to be the first _Perfect Creature_ fic on this site. Not very surprising, given that this seems to be a fandom of one at the moment, but I'm sure there are others out there and if any happen to find this, I hope you enjoy my humble fic for a very under-rated movie. This is a completed, three chapter story, and I will be posting the next chapters one a day. It's also my first published fic, and I am very curious to hear what people think of it, so please review! I would also like to note that this is best read slowly.

**A Death in the Family**

**One – Puerperal Fever**

The electric lights flickered and hummed gently. They were a new installation, perhaps. Many parts of the city were still running on gas, only a few had made the change to electric. Places like the morgue, below ground, needed it.

Silus watched the light change, shadow and light intermingling. Flickering. The door in front of him was plain, wooden, a rippled glass window bearing the lonely inscription: MORGUE. It opened quite suddenly and a small man came out, middle-aged, rusty-haired, a lined face that looked like it was normally smiling. His nametag read "Collins". Silus stood.

The man nodded nervously, indicating the open door. Silus stepped through it.

It was a modest room, tiled floor to ceiling in plain white tiles. Steel gurneys lined a far wall, draped in empty sheets. The small man named Collins walked to a wall of shiny metal doors. He checked the name plates on the front and chose a door, pulling it open. It was a drawer. He pulled the tray out.

"Here she is," he said rather anxiously.

Silus stared down at the corpse.

"I say, you're not from the Holy Office, are you?" Collins asked.

"No."

"Right. We just, er, don't get many Brothers down here. Not a Church matter, is it?" he said nervously.

"No. She was my mother," Silus said.

"Oh. I see," the man said. He stood awkwardly. He had a pleasant voice, one that would have been cheerful under different circumstances, in a different place. This, however, was rather beyond his normal routine.

The dead woman was waxy looking, pallid. She was still in the hospital gown she had died in, although she had died hours before. Her eyes were open, frosted over like dead fish eyes. Silus moved a hand to close them.

"How did she die?" he asked quietly.

"Complications from pneumonia," Collins said gently. Brothers always made him nervous, but he felt this situation called for a certain tact.

Silus closed his eyes briefly. The man wondered if he was praying, and then wondered if he should leave him alone for a moment.

"May I see her chart, please?" Silus asked.

Collins moved to a desk in the corner and rummaged through the untidy stacks of papers and forms for the right chart. Silus reached for the dead woman's hand. It was cold and hard. He tried to feel for her last few moments, but there was nothing. A corpse offered no memories.

The man returned with the correct chart. He handed the papers to the Brother, careful not to touch his fingers. The forms were yellowed with age, dry and brittle. The morgue director had filled in the information with blue ink, his handwriting scratchy. Silus saw her name and date of birth. The date of death was earlier that day, next to it her age filled in carelessly: 57. She was young even by their standards. He looked down at the face, so familiar, yet so strange. Hints of it remained from the memories of his childhood, but they had been distorted by the long years and sentiment. In his mind her features were younger, softer, fuzzy around the edges, perhaps. He wished he could keep that image. But there was still a trace of youth, a small hint of life around the wrinkled eyes. Life had beaten her down, but she had been beautiful.

There was nothing else of interest on her chart. He handed it back to Collins, who shuffled back to his desk to file it away again. Silus stood by the body, motionless, his expression impenetrable.

"It must have been a great comfort for her to have a son in the Church," Collins offered.

Silus looked up. It was hard to read his expression, but the man thought he looked sad—devastated, even. He always found it difficult to read Brothers, and this one was more inscrutable than most. He looked young, barely older than his own son, although Collins knew the Brother was probably older than himself.

"Two, actually," Silus said.

"Fancy that! Now that's unusual," the man replied. He couldn't tell if his words had any effect. The Brother continued to stare in that unnerving way only they could, not cold or empty, but strangely un-human.

"Did she suffer?" Silus asked abruptly.

"Er…I'm afraid I don't know. I just get the bodies sent to me, Brother—?"

"Silus."

"Brother Silus. But pneumonia… it was probably not, er, very prolonged," he finished rather lamely.

"Yes. There are worse ways to die in this world," Silus said. Collins did not know what to add to that.

Silus touched the dead woman's hand once more and closed his eyes. The man named Collins shivered as he watched him, grateful for the first time that he wasn't a Brother.

"Thank you for your time," Silus said finally. He moved away from the body, his mother, and Collins nodded, covering the corpse with a sheet.

Silus walked out the morgue door, his footsteps too quiet to be human.

A/N: Next chapter tomorrow!


	2. Dentition

**Two – Dentition**

A tall building, all stone and glass, arched windows, and strange carvings. A plaque on the corner read _The Holy Monastery of the Order of the Brotherhood_, but most simply called it the Monastery. It was not the tallest building in Jamestown, or even the grandest, but it was at its heart, and everyone knew where it was. Everyone felt it.

To Silus it was home. He mounted the granite steps of the entranceway, passing fellow Brothers, Cardinals, Government officials, some he knew through Church business, others by reputation. A few nodded, but most had no time to spare for a junior Brother yet to make his mark on the Church. Silus didn't notice; his attention was fixed on the inscription above the large gilt doors, words he'd seen every day until they burned in his mind. _Salus per Sanguinum_.

From blood, salvation.

The atrium could be busy this time of day, bustling with visitors and Brothers alike. Silus maneuvered through the black forms of cassocks and business suits to a private lift, to be used only by Brothers. No one else seemed to be going up, and he was grateful for the moment of silence.

The lift climbed up steadily, smoothly, tiny glowing lights illuminating the numbers indicating the floors. Silus stopped at the fourth floor. A sign on the landing indicated he had reached the dormitories.

Silus remembered it well. He had lived here, as had every Brother born in the city, when he was a child. Private rooms for older Brothers, those in higher forms yet to make their Confirmation, were located on the other side of the wing.

The dormitory was a long room with high ceilings, paneled in dark wood with the patina of age and whitewashed upward to the vaulted ceilings. Narrow windows covered one side, illuminating the room with a curious glow that never quite reached the highest corners, even when the sun was brightest. Plain, iron beds lined two sides, facing one another, battered trunks at the foot of each which held the young Brothers' few worldly possessions. It was empty now, the sunlight illuminating clouds of drifting dust. Silus watched it through the open door.

It was a lonely room, and it struck Silus more than ever with its sadness, the plain white sheets covering the beds in identical rows. There was no decoration, little color, even the delicate patterns of wrought iron lacing the windows were obscured, mere pillars of bright light.

Worse than that, it was lifeless. In his day, not so long ago, it had been full of young Brothers, dozens of them. Playing, laughing, studying, filling it with well-regulated noise, disciplined and carefree. Even in those times Brothers had been becoming rarer. A hundred years ago the dormitories had covered the entire wing of the fourth floor; now there was only this room, and it was too large for the few Brothers they had. Only three beds were currently occupied, marked with a plain coverlet and flat pillow, while the rest were empty, sheets bare and turned under in stiff hospital corners.

A bell sounded somewhere close by and Silus picked up the gentle scampering of feet, pacing through the hall and towards the dormitory. Shortly later three boys appeared, just let out from class. Silus read the title of a book under one boy's arm: _Politics of the Modern Age_. He knew the Brother who'd written it. The three boys walked to their respective beds and put their books away in their trunks, replacing them with new ones and heading off to their next classes. They were quiet and orderly as few human children could be.

Silus didn't work in the teaching departments and he did not know very well any Brothers who did. He hadn't realized there were so few Brothers still in their training. These kinds of things tended to be kept quiet, but the fact that there were only three Brothers left in the dormitories disturbed Silus more than he expected. He lurked in the hallway as the young Brothers passed him by, nodding respectfully to an elder Brother. One was older; he would be leaving this dormitory for the other wing soon. A second young Brother grinned at Silus and scampered off in a different direction, theology books clasped in hand.

The youngest was a dark haired boy who stared at Silus solemnly. He was young enough that the Brother's curious aging process had not yet caught up with him—he looked like what his real age probably was. Seven, perhaps. The youngest Brother in Jamestown. Silus regarded him with eyes just as solemn and much darker, too old for his young face. This boy looked like him, reminded him in a particularly painful way of himself at seven. The dark haired boy nodded soberly and walked off.

Silus watched the retreating figure until he wasn't seeing it anymore, his mind somewhere else.

_A woman and a young boy stood at a street corner. She clutched the boy's hand tightly and cast her eyes over the street, gauging where the traffic would go, guessing when it would be safe to cross. Her dark hair was coming out of its braid, spilling curls around her face. The boy looked up at his mother, watching the way the sunlight caught against her skin and seeming to make it glow. He squeezed her hand tightly as they crossed the street together._

"_Mother, why must we leave our flat? I like it there," the boy asked._

"_I know, Silus. It's not safe there anymore," she said, panting in the damp heat._

"_But why?"_

"_People are asking too many questions. It's not safe there anymore," she repeated._

_Silus didn't like it when she said things like that. Her voice sounded scared, and that frightened him terribly. More than when the man had come into their flat and shouted at his mother, pointing at him and saying things he didn't understand. After that they had to leave, and he still didn't understand why._

_His mother pulled him along the dusty cobblestones. She carried a single suitcase that held all their possessions. Clothes, a little money, a few items of food. Silus had watched her pack it the night before._

"_Will our new flat be nice?" he asked._

"_I—don't know, Silus," she choked out. Silus could tell she was close to tears. He wanted to pull on her hand and make her look down at him and make her smile. _

"_Don't worry, Mother, the Church will take care of us," he said instead._

_They stopped. "Where did you hear that?" she gasped. They stood on the sidewalk and she turned down to him, looking into his eyes with that same fear, but now there was anger there too._

"_I saw it on the wall," Silus said, chin quivering. He didn't mean to make her mad. He pointed to an alley wall, bricks plastered with advertisements, posters, announcements, a crazy jumble of colors and words._

_Now she was looking at him with tears in her eyes. That was even worse. She drew in a shaking breath and squinted her eyes, which meant she was about to cry. But she kept her lips firmly pressed together and pulled up her son's collar, the jacket too big and too heavy for summer. She always made him wear it outside. _

"_I'm sorry, Silus, I'm sorry," she said._

_He looked at her, eyes too old._

_She took his hand and gripped it harder than ever, and Silus felt safe there with her._

"_Don't talk to anyone, Silus. We'll be all right, and they won't find us," she said._

_It was a familiar mantra. He squeezed her hand and they walked through the hot sunlight._

That was a long time ago. Decades. She was gone now, and she existed only in his memories.

The dormitory wing seemed sadder than ever now and Silus wondered why he had come. Some strange desire to revisit his childhood haunted him, a ghost that wouldn't let go. Sometimes it felt like it wasn't his childhood at all, as if it had happened to a different person. Perhaps he was a different person. His two lives, the stolen childhood of those first seven years with his mother and the rest up till now, as a Brother, a greater being, were detached from each other. He'd forgotten it sometimes, how he was different from the others more than they could understand. But it came back to him now.

Silus left the dormitory, quickly and silently. He had come to the Monastery for a reason, but he did not feel he could fulfill it yet. Instead he made his way to the lift, unwanted on this unused floor. The gleaming silver doors reflected his somber face, framed above the black cassock he had worn for almost four decades.

The lift dinged softly as it reached the eighth floor. It was close to the top, an excellent view of the city in these parts. Further away the view was blocked by the towering skyscrapers that had popped up in the past decade, of course, but it still felt like a haven in the rooftops. The atmosphere on this floor was very different from the one four floors below. Here it was all thinly veiled chaos, Brothers both junior and senior bustling to and fro, speaking quietly in corners, delivering papers and objects even Silus couldn't identity. He was better known here. This was his floor. More particularly, the wing consisting of three rooms off the right-hand side of the second corridor was his.

A human secretary sat at the front desk, ready to enquire after unknown faces or direct a Brother looking for information. Silus was well known to her, however, and she gave him a reverent nod as he passed by on his way to his office.

The door was marked _Department of Technologia_, with small letters underneath denoting _Jr. Br. Silus_. The handle was well-worn brass, cold under his touch but with the warmth of familiarity. As his hand was on the knob, however, it began to turn from the inside. He paused and stepped back as it opened and a Brother appeared. It was Brother Augustus, a senior, distinguished and respected, his greater age apparent in his lined face, although it did not reveal his true years.

"Ah, Silus," he said, light coming to his eyes as he saw the younger Brother.

"Brother Augustus. Were you looking for me?" Silus asked.

"No, no, I just needed to see Brother Thaddeus about something. Nothing of importance."

They hesitated in the doorway. "I wonder if I might have a word with you," Silus said.

"Of course. Walk with me," Augustus said.

Silus fell into step beside him as they walked down the long hallway, the ceilings high above them gently echoing conversations from the far corners.

"I'd like to speak about Brother Edgar."

"Ah yes. Your brother." The word did not refer to titles.

"You know he is working in the Department of Sciences, I suppose."

"Yes, I had reason to stop by and see his work myself. He is making excellent advancements, particularly for one so young. Confirmed early, I believe? Yes, even earlier than you were. A great mind. Great talent."

Silus said nothing.

"He may be running the department in a few years time. It would be unprecedented." He stopped for a moment, looking over Silus. Was it pride in his eyes? Or disappointment?

"But I think you didn't want to talk about his accomplishments. Tell me."

Silus looked for the words. "You mentioned before how young he is…. Do you think it strange that he has already acquired a Mentor?"

"He showed great promise before his Confirmation, if I recall. A major research project already completed on blood diseases before his final year."

"Yes. He worked with Brother Clement on it."

Augustus's eyes darkened slightly.

"His Mentor." Silus said.

"It is not unusual for a novitiate to find a Mentor among the Brothers he has worked closely with. Especially one who showed as much potential as Edgar."

"Even a Brother as highly ranked as Brother Clement?"

Augustus turned sharply. "We are not in a position to question his judgments, Silus. He is one of the most senior Brothers, a member of Parliament and the Magisterium. He may choose his novitiates from any place he likes. They're getting harder to find these days, certainly."

They walked a few paces more, as Silus considered the dangerous ground he was treading.

His Mentor broke the silence abruptly. "I know what you have requested, Silus. You shouldn't be surprised; these things have a way of getting around, unorthodox as they are."

Silus stopped, waiting for censure. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this.

"The Committee has never allowed a Brother so young to take on a novitiate, and remarkable as your career has been, it has been short. Besides that, there is Brother Clement to consider. Do you truly believe the Committee will force a senior Brother to cease his mentorship in favor of an undistinguished junior?"

"I had hoped for a request."

"Don't be ridiculous, Silus. If Brother Clement singled Edgar out, he must have plans for him. He's seen promise in your brother, content yourself with that. Why would you wish to take him away from so respected a Brother, such an accomplished teacher?"

Silus said nothing, but Augustus seemed to know anyway.

"You have no reason not to trust him, Silus. He has done great things for the Church."

It was a position that could not be argued.

"I thought perhaps you might speak to the Committee," Silus tried one last time.

"You overestimate my powers. I am not so valued that I can sway the Committee, and in any case, even if I could, it is likely Brother Clement would overrule them."

"But the Committee has the final say in matters of mentorship." There was a hint of anger in Silus's voice.

"Silus, they will not go against Brother Clement. He is too highly positioned, and when he wants something, he has the power to get it."

"Yes, power seems to be the only thing they understand." He turned away, his face a hard mask.

"Watch what you are saying, Silus. Brother Clement is not a man you want to cross," Augustus said sharply. "And the Brotherhood does not take kindly to denigration of its respected bodies. You must think of your brother, and the opportunities this holds for him."

"I am thinking of him."

The older Brother sighed. "I knew you would be difficult when I chose to be your Mentor. If you hadn't shown such ability in politics I never would have." His Mentor gripped his shoulders, a gesture that always made Silus feel young. "Trust the Brotherhood, Silus."

Silus saw his sharp eyes, reproving, but also persuading. He broke the gaze. "I do, Brother Augustus. I know the Brotherhood will do what is right."

Augustus looked at him peculiarly, as if wondering what was going on inside his head. "We are only servants of the Brotherhood, Silus. You should know that by now." His tone made it clear that the conversation was over.

"Yes. Thank you, Brother Augustus," Silus said.

"You can always come to me for help, Silus."

Silus nodded, and did not look away until Augustus was gone.

A/N: Edgar is in the next chapter, I promise.


	3. Acute Mania

**Three – Acute Mania**

"You haven't stopped by in a long time, Brother. You used to visit me nearly every day."

"I'm sorry. My ministerial duties have kept me busy," Silus said. They stood in Edgar's workroom, cluttered with scientific instruments. Glass bottles and tubes glinted faintly in the sunlight.

"You shouldn't let those things prevent you from doing the important things, Silus," Edgar said, a hint of playfulness in his voice. He bent over some delicate instrument, fiddling with a switch, gently calibrating.

"The Ministerium is our most important work, Edgar," Silus replied somberly.

Edgar half laughed. "I know, I know, you don't need to lecture me. Always the devoted brother, keeping his errant charge on the straight and narrow. No need to be so serious, Silus."

A hint of a smile crept to Silus's face. He watched contentedly as his brother continued his work, engrossed in the charts and figures on a stack of papers.

"I did have a reason for coming here, Edgar," he said finally.

"Well? Tell me."

The briefest pause.

"Our mother died this morning."

Edgar's back was turned to him as he said it. He could not gauge his reaction, but he thought, or sensed, that Edgar's spine stiffened.

"She must have been old," Edgar said, his voice strangely flat.

"No. Not very."

"Did you see her, Silus?" Edgar said, turning suddenly, a paper clutched in his hand, a look of what was almost pathetic anxiety on his face.

"Yes. I went to the morgue before coming here."

"No, that's not what I mean. I mean before. Before she died. When we were younger…." Edgar seemed to stare at nothing.

Silus bowed his head. He had never told anyone. It was discouraged in the Brotherhood, if not outright forbidden. Brothers were not expected to remember their birth families. They were to be forgotten, taken away from infancy. Such had been Edgar's experience, but not Silus's.

"I could not forget her, Edgar. The Church…the Church wants us to, but I could not abandon her. I watched over her, at times."

"Yes, that's something you would do, isn't it?" Edgar said. Bitterly. "It doesn't matter now. I never saw her, except the once. I don't even remember what she looked like." He sat down behind his desk, rifling through papers.

Silus looked down at his brother, pain in his eyes.

"You were always the cleverer of us, Edgar."

"Yes, and you were the stronger." It came out more spitefully than he meant. He paused, stopping his pen in mid-sentence. He looked ashamed of himself, and compassionate, like his old self.

"I'm sorry, Silus."

There were many things to apologize for, but Silus did not care which this was meant for. The half-smile crept up; it seemed he could do no better. He nodded slightly, acknowledging the act of contrition. Edgar seemed content to go back to his work, and although Silus felt there was more to be said, he let the matter go.

He settled himself down on an unoccupied chair, as Edgar scribbled away at his notes, both lost in thought.

"Are you still working with Brother Clement?" Silus asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes. Of course. This is for him now. We're researching--well, we're researching."

Silus was disturbed by this vague answer, more than he liked to admit. He walked to Edgar's desk, silently, and peered at the papers littering the surface.

"Eclampsy? Erythroblastosis? What is this?"

Edgar reacted violently. He snatched the papers from Silus's view, looking up at him angrily, teeth showing beneath his lip.

"You oughtn't to look at that, Silus. This is Department of Science business," he said.

"I did not know your department was so secretive. What is so confidential about researching unborn children?" Silus said, taken aback by his hostility.

"You know things are changing. There are scarcely any Brothers being born nowadays; the last woman to bear a Brother in this city in almost a decade is under observation by the Church. The Church is taking matters into its own hands," he said, stashing away his papers, apparently not trusting Silus to keep his distance.

"And you are leading the project," Silus said.

"Don't look at me like that Silus. This is what I am called to do."

Silus looked out the large windows, brightly lit by the sun, shaded by the fog of the city. He could hear the tiny hum of life, movement, emotion, _humanity_, in those streets below. It felt so distant, strange and foreign, but powerful, more real somehow than his own life in this stone tower, high up in the sunlight and fog.

"Is she under observation here?" he said finally.

Edgar paused. "We can't give out that kind of information. This research is important, vital to our continuance. No one can know these things."

Silus's eyes were like closed shutters. "Do you ever think… ever wonder what it's like for them? For the mothers to have their children ripped from them? To be forgotten? Are we right to do this?"

"It's necessary," Edgar said. He did not look at his brother.

"Yes. Necessary," Silus repeated, the word dark on his tongue.

"I know what you're thinking, Silus." Edgar joined him in watching through the windows. The streets below were filled with tiny colored smudges, crawling like ants. "But she's not our mother. What happened to you…. Well, it's unfortunate, but it's the past."

Silus turned away from the windows and looked his brother in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for you, Edgar. I'm sorry you never knew her."

Silus saw his jaw clench, felt the emotion behind the straight face, but Edgar said nothing. He turned away, back to his instruments, again at work for the Brotherhood.

"I'll leave you to your research, Brother," Silus said. There was no response. Silus crossed the room to the door, paused on the threshold, and walked out.

_Formal Response of the Committee for the Regulation of Mentorships_

_To: Junior Brother Silus_

_Brother Silus:_

_Concerning your request of November 12 for the removal of Senior Brother Clement, MP, Magisterium Official, from his duties as Mentor to Junior Brother Edgar, the Committee has reviewed the circumstances and arguments brought up by the addressed party. After careful deliberation, the Committee has decided not to fulfill the applicant's request. Due in part to the applicant's unusual relationship with Brother Edgar, as his brother by birth, and more particularly because of the applicant's junior status and lack of experience within the Brotherhood, the members of the Committee feel the most prudent action to be to allow Brother Clement continued Mentor status. _

_Additionally, we note that the applicant has shown a certain lack of deference for senior members of the Brotherhood, concerning their ability to choose novitiates in the most judicious method with trust for their higher experience. The Committee expresses its disapproval for such presumptive conduct. _

_We trust the mater is satisfactorily resolved for all parties involved. _

_Sincerely;_

_Sr. Brother Ignatius, Head of the Committee_

A/N: There we go, completed story. I have a few short drabbles that I may also post, and I hope my few readers enjoyed my first foray into _Perfect Creature_ fanfiction.


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